


i might be bad

by Aqua_Artist



Series: love like you [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, hanzo drinks real tea thank you, mccree listens to country music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqua_Artist/pseuds/Aqua_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hanzo and McCree are put on a stakeout together, and Hanzo cannot spend another moment with McCree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tea

When he had joined Overwatch, Hanzo Shimada had thought that, for once, he was doing what was right. It would be hard, but it was the beginning of making amends for what he had done. This would be his penance.

Now, he thought that this, frankly, was far more than he deserved.

“-and I know Winston was tryin’a help all of us, but I ain’t gonna use one of his fancy tech guns, y’know? Wouldn’t be right. ‘Course I ran out of ammo in the middle of a battle. So now I’m stuck on watch duty, right smack in the middle of Deadlock Gorge again, and-”

How long was McCree going to prattle on? Hanzo decided he could not listen to any more of his inane complaining.

“The job of an assassin is an important one, Agent McCree. Watch duty is not a punishment.”

“‘S for me,” the cowboy replied, looking upset at having been cut short. Good. He needed to learn that Hanzo would not stand to listen to him and his incessant chatter.

(A maximum of two weeks, he reminded himself.)

“I will set up my quarters,” Hanzo told the cowboy, thankful that their hideout had separate rooms. He looked, somehow, even more disappointed at that, but Hanzo paid no heed to him.

(It had only been an hour since he arrived.)

~

“What. Are you listening to?” 

It was 3:13 in the morning, and Hanzo Shimada’s ears were being assaulted by… something. He had opened the door, and of course it was McCree, radio blaring (they were on a stakeout!).

God damn the cowboy.

“Have you ne’er heard country music?” he responds, agast, as though Hanzo has just committed a crime of the worst proportions.

Hm. Country music.

Hanzo decides he hates country music.

“No,” he states flatly, before closing the door.

He thinks he might hear McCree ‘hmph’ under the drone of the ‘music’.

~

In the morning, Hanzo sees he’s fallen asleep, head slumped on the table, radio still playing.

He turns it off, and finds himself making two cups of tea.

He leaves one of them next to the cowboy.

~

Perhaps an hour has passed, (he has been watching out the window, he cannot be quite sure) before McCree wakes. (He is sure that the cowboy has slept far too late.)

He does not offer a greeting, and neither does McCree, which he is grateful for. He’s clearly not a ‘morning person’, Hanzo notes.

He hears the clinking and chiming of glasses before McCree joins him at the window.

“Thanks for the tea,” he mutters sleepily. (Hanzo wills himself not to laugh at him.)

“Surely it has gotten cold by now. I apologize,” he says, making it clear he does not actually apologize, that it is the cowboy’s fault for sleeping too late.

“‘S not a problem.” Hanzo looks over, and sees him drinking his tea from a glass, ice cubes floating together near the top.

“That is not how you drink tea.” Hanzo glares at the tea (that is not tea), then the cowboy.

“-Hanzo. You don’t know country music, and now iced tea?”

Iced tea. Why would anyone drink tea with ice in it?

“No.” Hanzo hopes this will be the end of this bizarre conversation. (Unfortunately, it is not.)

“Try it,” the cowboy demands, handing the glass over. Reluctantly, Hanzo takes it, deciding the best thing to do is drink it so he will shut up. So he does.

It is not tea. (It is not terrible, either, but he will not admit that.)

He hands it back, scowling, and the cowboy bursts into laughter.

“Nothin’?” he asks, after his laughter has died down.

“It was...satisfactory,” Hanzo allows.

“Ya know, you’re really somethin’, Hanzo,” the cowboy says, staring out the window.

Hanzo can’t figure out what he means by that.

(He wishes he could.)

~

“This. Is tea.” He’s waited for the cowboy to wake up this morning, so he will not be able to turn Hanzo’s tea into some American contraption.

McCree stares at the mug placed in front of him, before shrugging, picking it up, and downing a huge sip.

Hanzo stares.

“Jesus! Hanzo, why didn’t you tell me it would be so hot?” He’s incredulous, staring up at Hanzo, wide-eyed.

“Tea is to be savored gently. One does not drink that much at one.” He smirks down at the cowboy, remembering the childhood feeling of burning one’s self by drinking too much tea. McCree is a grown man, Overwatch agent. And he looks absolutely hurt because Hanzo did not warn him that tea would be hot.

Then Hanzo laughs. Short, unbidden, before he catches himself.

McCree grins. Wide, one that takes over his whole face and makes him shine.

“Ya do have emotions! Ha, I knew it!”

Hanzo smiles, his playful smirk less haughty.

“Clearly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will hopefully be up tomorrow. If you have any questions/suggestions, please let me know!


	2. view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Deadlock Gorge is both beautiful and haunting.

Deadlock Gorge had a strange kind of beauty, but it was beautiful nonetheless. (Or perhaps Hanzo had just gotten accustomed to the view after days of watch duty.) Still. The layers of red rock, glowing in the sunset, were pleasing to look at. If this stakeout was truly as important as Winston had said, he was glad that it was somewhere nice.

“Your country is beautiful,” Hanzo said, addressing the cowboy, who he found watching over the gorge next to him. He stood a little too close to Hanzo for his liking, but he had gotten used to it. (In only three days? He dismissed the thought.)

McCree hummed. Hanzo might almost call him contemplative, if that word could apply to the cowboy.

“I’ve spent too much of my life here, don’t see much beauty in it anymore.”

Hanzo doesn’t probe into his past, silently watching the movement of the shadows.

McCree tilts his head, scratches at his beard.

“Still. Maybe it ain’t too bad.” He yawns, stretching his arms out, and Hanzo finds himself smiling.

“You slept too late, cowboy. That is why you are tired,” he explains with an exasperated fondness.

“How’zat work?” McCree asks, blinking, and Hanzo can’t help himself from sighing.

“Do not mind that. I will stay up tonight.”

“Oh.” McCree pulls his serape around him, leans into Hanzo, head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. “Th’nk you.”

Hanzo isn’t pleased with the violation of his personal space, but allows it. He’s not quite sure why. Maybe it’s for the companionship, or how nice it feels to have someone trusting him. Even if it’s the infuriating cowboy, with his rambling stories and his strange customs.

“You’re welcome, cowboy,” Hanzo says to himself, long after the moon has risen and McCree has fallen asleep.

He’s not quite sure why he’s let the cowboy get so close to him.

~

“Coffee?”

Hanzo startles awake, realizing with embarrassment that at some point in the early morning, he had fallen asleep.

“C’mon, don’t pretend you don’t know what coffee is,” McCree says, offering a mug. (Yes, Hanzo does know what coffee is, although right now, he wishes he didn’t.)

He accepts the coffee; it does smell nice, and a sip of it warms him up, even if it is far too sweet. He looks up from it to see McCree beaming (in that endearing way of his).

“Thank you.”

(He thinks he wants to see McCree smiling all the time. He thinks that maybe being stuck with McCree isn’t as bad as he thought.)

~

It’s late at night, when Hanzo was supposed to be sleeping (the cowboy had insisted), when he realizes all the things he has been not quite sure about.

He cares about McCree.

Damn.

~

On the seventh day, they receive a report from Gibraltar: Genji, Tracer, and Reinhardt’s mission to Ilios had been a complete success. Hanzo relaxes, finds himself letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in.

“Just like the ol’ days,” McCree chuckles, flipping through the report as Hanzo kept watch.

“What do you mean by that?” Hanzo asks flatly, largely uninterested now that he has been assured of his brother’s safety.

“The ol’ days of Overwatch, ‘course! Man, fighting with your brother - he was always incredible.”

Oh.

Oh.

Hanzo was a fool. Had been a complete fool to let himself get this close.

“You know, then.” He is sharp, bitter, but it’s directed towards himself, for all his mistakes, for being such a fool. He looks away, unable to look at McCree, unable to keep himself composed. “What must you have thought of me?”

“I-” McCree starts. Hanzo desperately wants to escape, to run, but he cannot.

“No, do not.” He does not want to know, cannot know what McCree truly thinks of him. “How can you be so kind to me? How can you trust me after what I have done?”

It is silent, but when McCree does speak, he’s shockingly gentle. Hanzo cannot stand it.

“Hey, Hanzo… I don’t know if everyone deserves forgiveness, but after the things I’ve done, I would sure hope so.”

“What could you possibly have done?” he asks, because nothing McCree’s past contained could compare to him.

“I used to be one of them,” he answers solemnly. Hanzo looks up. He’s staring out the window. (As though all his past is contained in its view.)

“The Deadlock Gang,” he finishes. Oh. (Maybe it is.)

“I apologize, you should not have to speak of this,” Hanzo says, because McCree is a good man, he is absolutely sure, and he should not have to think about his demons because of Hanzo.

“‘S alright, Hanzo. Overwatch gives everyone a second change. That’s why we’re here, innit?”  
“...Thank you.”

“‘Course. We just gotta keep telling ourselves this, right?”

(If he sounds a little sadder at the end, almost like he’s convincing himself as well as Hanzo, Hanzo doesn’t mention it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There's only one more left, although I plan on writing more with these two in this series. If you have any comments or ideas, I'd love to hear them!


	3. understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which McCree talks and Hanzo tries to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you so much for all of your support and comments! Because of that, I decided to write another chapter today! I've been looking forward to sharing this one with you, so here it is!

It’s the tenth day before anything else of note happens.

(McCree’s tried to teach him how to play poker, Texas Hold’em, but that’s been a spectacular failure no matter how hard Hanzo tried to play along with his time wasters. Still, it was somewhat enjoyable.)

They’re keeping watch together, McCree staring out the window, profiled and highlighted by the light of the setting sun. (He’s absolutely stunning.)

“I will miss your company, cowboy. When this is over,” Hanzo says, and he means it.

“Didn’t seem like it at first,” McCree teases. Hanzo closes his eyes and sighs. Was he always to regret his past self?

“What compelled you to be so kind to me when I wished to be left alone? I do not understand.”

“Um, well,” McCree smiles and stutters, “I think you’re pretty swell, y’know?”

“What does that mean?”

“Ah, forget it,” he says. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Hanzo asks, harsh and desperate, needing to know. He doesn’t know why he cares what the cowboy thinks of him so much.

(He knows exactly why, but is trying not to.)

“That… I like you, Hanzo.”

He’s completely honest. No, he can’t possibly mean that.

“Why?”

“Don’t have a reason.” He smiles, but it’s bittersweet, and Hanzo is even more lost. “I just do.”

“You must be a fool, then,” Hanzo says. He’s smiling too, despite himself, despite his confusion.

“Maybe I am.”

He feels a terrible guilt at that, then, hating himself for the bittersweet, pleading tone in the cowboy’s voice, but he can’t understand, cannot understand why he would trust him, let alone like him (let alone like him), and for a moment he hates himself and wishes he was alone.

Everything was easier when he was alone.

“I do not understand why you trust me.”

McCree ‘hmph’s in a way that’s strangely profound, turning to Hanzo like he’s about to instill some wisdom. He would be annoyed with the cowboy if he didn’t find himself hanging onto every word he says.

“Look, I get it. Things are a whole lot easier on your own. If you don’t trust anyone, you can’t ever get hurt.”

(His Deadlock Gang years. His years on his own. Hanzo knows that is what he speaks of.)

“But… it gets lonely. And there are some things you can only do with someone else by your side.”

“Overwatch,” Hanzo answers in McCree’s pause.

“...Not exactly.” McCree’s tone is almost wistful.

Then he turns, looks at Hanzo, and smiles. A true smile. Not bittersweet and tinged with past pain, but not huge and wide and grinning, either. He locks eyes with Hanzo, and Hanzo is - completely enthralled, entranced in this annoying, rambunctious, strangely patient, beautiful man.

“Thank you, Jesse.” What he’s thanking him for, he’s not exactly sure, but he thinks McCree is.

Then Jesse’s smile reaches his eyes.

Hanzo didn’t even know he could feel this way, have this feeling about another person. He tries not to show it, but there’s this strange pull in his chest, long-forgotten feelings coming back to him.

(He is in love with Jesse McCree.)

He is in love with Jesse McCree.

Then it all ends.

The rumble and ratchet of metal - the telltale signs of a payload approaching - they both snap to attention, staring out the window.

The Deadlock Gang.

Hanzo forces his mind to clear, assessing the situation. Five members - too many to snipe, but not enough to need backup - guarding the slow-moving payload. Overwatch intelligence had been correct - an illicit transfer of arms, powerful rifles and revolvers enhanced with pulsemunition. He could not let them finish the deal. He knew he had to stop them. Objective fully assessed; mind cleared. He turns his head slightly to look at McCree.

He’s deep in thought, which surprises Hanzo, but if McCree was taking this objective seriously, cautiously, hopefully because of him, that could only increase the success of this mission, already nearly guaranteed because of the thankfully low number of Deadlock members present and McCree’s knowledge of the gang.

“When should we engage?” he asks of McCree, the senior agent.

McCree provides no response.

“I could snipe one, perhaps two of them from here before they notice. But they are equipped with rifles, so that may not be the best plan of action.”

McCree provides no response.

“Perhaps after they are closer, where your weapon will be able to damage them.”

McCree provides no response.

“Agent McCree?”

Nothing.

“McCree?”

He turns to look at Hanzo. There’s unbearable pain, anguish in his eyes.

“Jesse?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t-” he can’t- “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

“Jesse?” He’s not confused now - pleading.

“I’m so sorry.”

Hanzo knows he should act, do something, but he can’t. He’s frozen - not that he would know what he should do, not that he could bring himself to do anything if he wasn’t frozen, trapped-

-Stunned.

McCree attacks him, draws - for an unbearable moment in which all Hanzo knows is fear, he trusted him- aims, then-

He’s gone.

The flashbang wears off, but Hanzo doesn’t move, doesn’t try to go after him, can’t.

He’s vanished anyways, disappeared, out of sight, the payload with him, as if that even mattered still.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

Jesse is gone.

“I trusted you.”

It’s a fact, blank, yet it hurts.

(So this is how the betrayal hurts from the other side.)

“I trusted you,” he tells the empty gorge, again, bitter and harsh and broken. If not for the bitterness, the betrayal, he thinks he would feel empty inside.

Had Jesse even ever trusted him? He feels a surge of sharp pain.

(“I loved you,” he knows he could also say, and it would be just as true, painfully true. But he can’t.)

In the silence, aching, he realizes.

Jesse had been right.

He did understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  I'd apologize, but I wouldn't mean it.  
> Really, though, I hope you enjoyed reading this work and got lots of 'feels'! Do not worry, I will continue this story in a different work, so you won't be left with that ending forever.  
> If you liked this or have any ideas, comments would be very much appreciated! Thank you for reading this and sharing this story with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will hopefully be up tomorrow. If you have any questions/suggestions, please let me know!


End file.
